Luca at the Fish Market

Today we braved the outdoors with Luca at Seoul’s fish market, much to the shock and chagrin of all the ahjummas (older Korean ladies) we passed.

“Ohh, too young!” they scolded. Or, “Too hot!” Or, “It’s too loud in here!”

In Korean society, newborns and new moms are not supposed to leave the house for the first 100 days after birth. Joe says it’s based on the olden days, when surviving the first months of life was an accomplishment.

Other Korean post-birth practices include eating seaweed soup every meal for a month and keeping the new mom warm at all times (apparently if she takes a cold shower or gets too cold or eats cold food, her loosened joints will never tighten back up, and she will always ache in the winter).  

...And Korea’s community-based culture means the women will not hesitate to tell us what they believe we are doing wrong.

Today, after the ahjummas accosted us as we entered, Joe quickly decided just to tell inquirers that Luca is 2 or 3 months old (he’s big enough) just to avoid the shocked response to his actual age—2.5 weeks old.

The fish market is a large, covered area of vendors, calling out their wares. Fish swim in tanks, and smaller sea creatures (some very strange and… well, phallic, like that thing in the middle of the picture at right) sit in bins of water, waiting to be bought and eaten.

“Want sashimi?” vendors would ask when they saw my parents and me (they asked Joe in Korean).

Joe bargains for our lunch

We found a clean-looking stall, and Joe ordered some good-looking (live) swimmers and we watched while a man cleaned and filleted them.

They served our lunch upstairs in a restaurant (with air conditioning, thank you very much!). Our two locally-caught fish were, to be honest, a little tough and not quite as tasty as tuna or salmon, but we were there more for the experience, and sashimi doesn't get any fresher than that.

After the raw fish, they served our third fish cooked in a spicy soup.




The best part of the day, though, was the chance for Joe and me to stick our toes into the waters of exploring town with the baby. My parents and I have done a few outings to meet Joe for lunch, see a museum or wander a mall, but the fish market was by far Luca’s most adventurous trip out of our house.

It’s funny, because the whole 100-days-inside rule sometimes makes me doubt my wisdom in wanting to take Luca out and about already—and in my ability to manage it.

But you know, we did really well, despite the fact that Luca had a big, messy stink diaper and also needed me to feed him. No problem; we managed. And we got creative—check out Luca’s little bed in the restaurant (right). Good use of a diaper bag and nursing cover, huh?

Joe and I are a good team, today proved once again. And I'm learning more and more that being a mom doesn’t mean I need to lock myself inside the house.

And now for a bonus picture of Luca in his diaper-bag bed... isn't he adorable??

Welcome, Luca Joseph

Was I really pregnant just two weeks ago?

It’s hard to believe I haven’t known my precious newborn forever—my life seems to gravitate around his, and weird sleep patterns mean my sense of time is distorted. I gaze at him while he eats; I nap or get things done while he sleeps (like now). Luckily for me, my parents are here making sure Joe and I get solid meals (and helping change those poopy diapers!).

At night, every grunt or whimper or coo has me turning over to see if he is ready to eat or ready for a new diaper… or if he has soaked through his diaper and the bassinet sheet. Again.

In short, I am so in love with this little man who has come to change my life.

Luca Joseph Kim arrived on July 10 at 5:18am after 8 hours of drug-free active labor (more on that in another post). He was right on time: His due date was July 9 or 10, and it was the 10th in Korea and the 9th in the U.S. when he made his grand entrance.

He weighed 8lbs 14oz and was about 21 inches long. We were surprised by such a big baby, but then I look back at my 40-week belly picture, and… well, I guess that belly was getting pretty large and in charge.

Luca, a version of Luke, means “bringer of light.” Joe’s parents provided his Korean name: 대근, which means “big root.” We are hoping he will be a solid, grounded man who is a light to those he meets.

We haven’t decided how we’ll spell his Korean name in English, but perhaps Daegan or Daegun. It sounds like “day-gnn” and rhymes with Reagan, if you say Reagan quickly.

I have never experienced a joy quite like holding my son in my arms. I am awed by such a gift from God—and by such a responsibility.

Isn't he the cutest? I think so, but then I'm extremely biased and I've got all these new-mommy love hormones kicking around.

July 4 and Daniel Dae Kim

I’d heard the U.S. Embassy’s National Day event was the biggest national day in town (each embassy has its own—I went to Ireland’s on St. Patrick’s Day, for example, and ours is on Independence Day, of course), so I figured it was worth two hours of standing and braving my swollen ankles.

First of all, yes, it was huge and beautiful with tons of Korean political VIPs. And it was fun to hang out with some other embassy spouses whose husbands or wives were busy escorting those VIPs.

But the evening’s goal became clear once I found out a certain Korean-American VIP was also present: Daniel Dae Kim, of Lost and Hawaii 5-0. Apparently he was some sort of cultural liaison for the embassy… or maybe he just wanted to come.

Either way, with my friend and fellow embassy spouse, I decided I would definitely get a picture with the actor. I’m not big into being star-struck, but why not take the opportunity? So we waited and watched. And when we saw him (see stalker-ish photo above right), we grabbed our moment (and then apologized to him for starting a chain of others also asking for photos).

He was very down-to-earth and nice, actually. I introduced myself and told him I’d just seen an episode of Hawaii 5-0 the other day and enjoyed it (true). I figured he hears enough about Lost.

We chatted for a little while, and he seemed like a normal person, which I appreciated. He was polite and asked questions about my baby—he congratulated me and thought it definitely looked like I was carrying a boy (also true).

In addition to meeting Mr. Kim (No relation to my husband’s family that we know of. In case you don’t know, “Kim” in Korea is like “Smith” in the United States), the evening was fun, despite my swollen ankles. It was great to dress up and hang out with my neighbors, and an excellent diversion from waiting for my baby’s grand entrance!

I also ran into an extremely sweet Deputy Chief of Mission (an embassy’s second in command) I’d met a few months ago at another national day event. He’s from a small country; I’m not sure if I should mention which. But the last time we met, he approached Joe and me out of the blue—we were in the middle of a conversation with someone else and in a food line—just to congratulate me on the baby. He was glowing with excitement for me. He and Joe did exchange cards, but really, he had come up to talk to me. It kind of made my night.

But last night, we saw him again and chatted for a few minutes. What stuck out this time was that, as we were saying goodbye, he said, “Congratulations on your independence.”

Whoa.

I’ve always celebrated July 4 with barbeques and fireworks, but I never thought about Independence Day as a reason to congratulate Americans. It genuinely is something to be proud of even today, despite the fact that the U.S. declared its independence more than 200 years ago. Sometimes it takes a tiny little offhand comment from another person’s point of view to make me remember to appreciate what I have.

So, congratulations, Americans. Be proud of your independence. Happy July 4!

Waiting for my Life to Change

It’s rare to know an event is about to happen that will completely change your life. Even more rare: Knowing a life-changing event will happen any day… but yet not knowing which day.

A baby can safely arrive anywhere from 37 to 42-ish weeks into pregnancy (estimated due dates are 40 weeks). At 39 weeks, I’m feeling ready to go. The car seat is installed; the nursery is done; our hospital bag is packed. And—if you haven’t seen my belly—yeah, it looks ready to pop. Is it weird that I’m excited for labor to start? Well, I am.

Here are a few things I’ve learned while waiting for my world to change (I wish they were deep life lessons, but unfortunately I’m not great at waiting—see point #4—so these are mostly shallow):

1. Male strangers feel compelled to have a reaction to very pregnant women.

Some good, some bad.

For example, a few weeks ago as I was swimming, a military guy treading water for his workout joked that I needed to work on my abs (Ha. Ha. Ha.). But he went on to tell me how helpful his wife found swimming when she was pregnant, and he was all-around encouraging and happy for me.

Then last week while waiting for an oil change on base, a couple of Army officers—one with NINE children, the other with three—told me all about their experience as fathers. Very sweet.

On the other hand, as I paid the cashier, the manager (I assume) came out from his office and said, “Woah! You should be lying down at home!” And, this is something I’ve heard multiple times: “I am so glad I am not a woman!”

My typical response to this, more for my own benefit than theirs: “But you don’t get to feel a baby moving around in your belly, and that is the most amazing thing!”

I even had one Korean man in a base store look at my belly and shake in mock-fear. “Oh!!” he said. “Ohh! So painful!”

Thanks, dude.

My response, again, more for myself: “Actually, it’s going to be great! I’m practicing being very relaxed so it won’t be bad.”

2. Some Koreans don’t like or don’t understand American maternity clothes.

I get some funny looks when I’m out. I get some for just being foreign and blonde, I’m sure, but it seems the belly really attracts the eye. It took a visit to Joe’s grandma to understand why. I was wearing a coral sleeveless maternity shirt and a skirt. Oh, I have a picture:

Anyway, she asked Joe, “Don’t Americans have maternity clothes?”

She thought I should be wearing one of the big tent dresses Korean pregnant women often wear (if you even see Korean pregnant women out and about, which is kind of rare).

I tried to explain that there was plenty of extra material the way the shirt is designed, and that these kinds of maternity clothes look better on me than a tent-dress.

Well, the next time I saw her I wore the dress pictured at left, which hangs loose. But she asked the same question once again. Sigh. I can’t win.

3. Everyone has a theory for how to induce labor.

Walk up hills. Do lots of squats. Eat spicy food. Walk a lot. Bounce on an exercise ball. (And, of course, the PG-13 techniques I won’t detail here).

4. Patience is not my forte, particularly when it involves being alone.

I’m really excited to meet my son. Yes, I’m also ready for the feeling to return to my right hand’s fingers and for my feet and ankles to go back to their normal size, but I mostly just can’t believe a little person is going to make his entry into my world, someone who looks like me and like Joe. I can’t wait to see Joe as a dad. I’m thrilled to learn what it is to be a mom.

Plus, this first tour in State Department is my experiment in being a stay-at-home mom… but so far, I’ve been a stay-at-home person. If you know me, you will know that this is not particularly in keeping with my personality. My 11-week Korean language course gave me out-of-the-house purpose for a little while, but mostly I’ve been taking care of the homestead.

Some days I’m great at waiting: I swim and read and do laundry and make creative popsicles and go for walks and (sometimes) visit neighbors. It’s great! Other days, I do the same exact things… but the day ends and I’m drained.

A couple months ago, I scored a part-time freelance editing gig for a Korean tourism website… that is, until I learned that U.S. diplomatic spouses aren’t allowed to freelance on the Korean economy (anyone know of freelance editing jobs at U.S. companies??), so I had to turn it down.

I realize that hiccup is probably a gift—a chance to really give stay-at-home-mothering a chance like I planned. And I know I will be extremely busy once the baby is born… but, well, I am not very good at the long view when I’m at home so often and when it seems like my son will never arrive. I know that’s silly, but it’s true!

So, come on, little son! I'm so ready to meet you!